


Team Spirit

by schiggy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossdressing Kink, Locker Room, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top!Suga is so so important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schiggy/pseuds/schiggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daichi will do pretty much anything for his boyfriend, and Suga's dirtier than anyone gives him credit for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything but kink meme fills but my life has been spiraling out of control ever since I read that fucking volleyball manga, this is filthy and I am so sorry

Tuesday morning, Daichi's phone buzzes in his jacket pocket while he's in class.  A couple students turn curious heads toward the sound, but Daichi ignores it, face heating a little-- _shoulda put it on silent_.  Nobody texts him this early.  He glances over at Sugawara, seated at the desk to his left: his vice-captain is staring intently at absolutely nothing out the window, but Daichi catches a sliver of a smirk on his face before he turns away completely.  _Okay, then_.  Daichi waits a couple of uneasy minutes, then excuses himself and heads toward the bathrooms, fingers tapping anxiously against the outside of his phone.

 _Got you something for later,_ says the first text, and Daichi squints at the pixellated message, hard to see under the fluorescent lights in the men's bathroom stalls.He hunches further over his phone, shifting his weight on the lid of the closed toilet.This could go one of two ways, but Daichi's not sure how Suga could have picked up pork buns for him and the whole team before 9 AM.Besides, Suga had looked a little too self-satisfied for that to be it.The phone buzzes again, and Daichi hurriedly opens the new message. It's a photo, and Daichi chews his lip while it loads.Slowly, bit by bit, an image reveals itself on Daichi's tiny phone screen.At first he just sees black and orange, and wonders why Suga is sending him a photograph of his own neatly displayed uniform, all laid out.He tilts his screen up, and it occurs to him that the top looks too short, and that the shorts aren't shorts at all.Miniskirt, cropped top, high black socks--a Karasuno cheerleading uniform.He'd forgotten they even used to _have_ a cheer squad.Daichi swallows, mouth suddenly dry.Then, a third text: _Stay after practice today._ Daichi shoves his phone away, splashes cold water on his face, and stalks stiffly back to class.

***

At lunch, Daichi, Suga and Tanaka sit together in their usual spot, a shady stretch of grass on the edge of the school green.The buzz of Daichi's phone is drowned out by Tanaka's usual animated shouting, but he feels it vibrate against his thigh.Daichi tries to make eye contact with Suga, but Suga is seemingly fully engaged in Tanaka's story, laughing and punching his friend lightly in the arm, to all appearances paying no attention to Daichi at all.Daichi shrugs and opens his phone, then immediately crimsons. _You look so good today, I wanna pin you up against your own locker and fuck you until you can't even walk,_ says the Suga on his phone."Are you alright, Daichi?" says the Suga in front of him, concern written all over his angelic features.  

 "Fine," Daichi grits out, yanking his sweatshirt into his lap with sweaty palms and trying to shoot Suga a surreptitious glare.  Suga smiles back beatifically, dimples and all. 

***

Practice passes uneventfully, with the exception of Daichi fumbling his usual solid receives whenever Sugawara turns his gaze in his direction.  Suga keeps _smiling_ at him.  Daichi wants to punch that innocent look off his face.  His dick _hurts_ from being ignored so long.  Have Suga's stretches always exposed that much stomach?  That much thigh?  Daichi steels himself.  _It's no good for team morale if the captain breaks down crying during practice_.

 ***

 The Karasuno volleyball team shuffles back into the locker room, sweaty and exhausted, and nobody notices if Daichi is a little quiet, a little distracted.  He shoves himself into the first available shower stall, hoping not to have to exchange his usual pleasantries with any of his team as they make their way home.  Behind him, he can hear the echoes of Suga telling everyone to take care, that he's going to finish cleaning up with Daichi.  The voices fade until the only sounds in the locker room are the spray of Daichi's shower (he's been in there so long it's gone cold) and the clicks of Suga's footsteps in the changing area.  When Daichi finally shuts off the water and pulls back the curtain that covers his shower stall, there's a familiar neatly-folded bundle on top of his towel, next to his team jacket, in place of his own clothes.  Daichi rolls his eyes, more for effect than out of actual exasperation, even though there's nobody watching--it almost distracts him from the funny little flip his stomach does when he notices the pair of tiny black panties set on top of the pile.

Daichi knows this game and knows exactly what's expected of him; he and Suga have been doing _whatever this is_ for months, but Suga still hates to be confrontational.  Drying himself off quickly, he decides to bite the bullet and pull those panties and the skirt on first.  The panties are tight, cutting into the flesh of his ass and squeezing (maybe a bit too nicely) around his balls, but the skirt feels surprisingly comfortable.  Next comes the top, which feels more than a little ridiculous, pulling taut against his broad chest and shoulders but leaving his midriff exposed.  He bends to pull on the socks, hopping awkwardly on one foot as he yanks the second one up to mid-thigh, wondering why he does _anything_ Suga tells him to when they're alone.  Both socks on, Daichi tugs at the hem of the skirt, checking himself over.  _Okay_.  He pulls in deep breath, and before he can even let it out, Suga is peering around the corner, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

 "What is your _problem,"_ Daichi huffs, unabashedly bending down to pick up his towel and rubbing it over his still-damp face and hair.

 "Problem?" Suga laughs, his eyes traveling appraisingly up from Daichi's skirt.  "I thought you liked it when I texted you in the mornings."

 "Whatever happened to, I don't know, _how'd you sleep, honey_ or _what'd you have for breakfast--"_

 "I already know what you had for breakfast, Daichi, you eat the same thing every day."

 "Romance is dead," Daichi sighs, slinging his towel over his shoulder.  Suga watches (or at least watches his arms) with interest, then sets down what he's been holding the whole time--a pair of heels.  Very high ones.  Very large, too.  Daichi knows his shoe size when he sees it.

 "No.  Suga, oh hell no."

 "You tell me romance is dead, then you don't let me give you any gifts.  What am I supposed to do?" Suga teases.  "Come on.  They're your size and everything."  He toes the shoes hopefully across the tile toward Daichi's stockinged feet.  Suga bites his bottom lip, a flash of white against pink, and Daichi's resolve crumbles like a sandcastle at high tide.

 "I know," mutters Daichi darkly, stepping into the heels against his better judgment, leaning against Suga's sturdy shoulder when he tries to take a step and doesn't quite keep his balance.  Suga's back in his crisp white school shirt, all buttoned up and skin scrubbed pink, smiling like the cat who got the fucking canary.  God, he smells good.  For a moment Daichi considers how ridiculous they must look, Daichi holding onto Suga's arm for balance ( _for dear life_ , he thinks) and Suga, now a good head shorter than him, helping him upright with a grin.

 "I _always_ cheerlead for you, Daichi!  Take one for the team just this once, yeah?" Suga laughs, mock-bright, patting Daichi hard on the back; Daichi wobbles, unsteady in his heels.  "At least I left the pom-poms."

 Suddenly Suga's eyes light up like he's remembered something vital.  "Right!" he says, "Finishing touch."  He rummages around in the pocket of his well-pressed school pants, finally pulling out a small gold tube.  

 "Lipstick," Daichi says flatly.  Then, "Pink."  

 "Mmhmm."  Suga lets go of Daichi's shoulder just long enough to pop it open.  Daichi doesn't even bother to protest, concentrating on staying upright as Suga swipes it along his bottom lip, then his top.  _He's probably making a mess of it_ , Daichi thinks sourly, before Suga leans up ( _and up and up, in these heels_ ) and kisses him full on the mouth and Daichi forgets why he was thinking at all.

 Suga tangles a hand in his hair and replaces the steadying palm on Daichi's shoulder, kissing him hard and long and hungry, nipping at his lips, dragging his mouth across Daichi's cheek to the curve of his jaw ( _bite it,_ Daichi thinks, _God, bite it)_ , where he stops and just breathes for a second.  "Right," Suga exhales softly, and pulls back.

 Suga lets go of his arm and sits down primly on the wall-mounted bench behind him.  He's still smiling, all pretty white teeth and dimpled cheeks.  Daichi debates for a moment whether he'd rather kiss him or clock him.  "You look so nice like this, Daichi.  Take a look."  Suga takes advantage of Daichi's unsteadiness to spin him and yank him down into his lap--Daichi falls into him with a thump and a surprised shout.  He fumbles around in the pocket of Daichi's discarded team jacket for a second, producing his phone, unlocking it with the ease of long practice and holding it up at arm's length.  "Smile," says Suga, batting long pale lashes, before the phone camera flashes bright in both their faces.

 When Suga pulls the phone back and shows him the photo, Daichi doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.  He looks ridiculous, huge in Sugawara's lap, lipstick smeared across his cheek from their earlier kissing and cute little skirt tented up from his obvious erection.  Suga looks good though, flushed and smiling over his shoulder with that devilish little glint in his eye.  

 Daichi leans his head back on Suga's shoulder, turning so his nose brushes his neck.  "Where do you even _get_ this shit," Daichi wonders out loud, exasperated and fond, and Suga laughs, sliding a finger back and forth under the top band of one of Daichi's high socks.

 "Got my places.  And a healthy imagination, where you're concerned," is all he says, followed by the quiet _tap-tap-tap_ of cell phone buttons.  Out of the corner of his eye, Daichi can see Suga using his phone to text the photo to himself.  _Jackass._ Across the room, Suga's phone buzzes loud in his locker.

 It's been a long day, and Daichi's sick of pretending he doesn't know why he's here. He shifts his hips back into Suga's, tangling their fingers together against the exposed skin of his hip.  "So what's the story, Suga?  Are you gonna touch me or did you get me all dressed up like this for nothing?"  For good measure, he rubs a heel-clad foot up the back of Suga's calf.

 Suga huffs out an embarrassed little laugh behind him; Daichi can practically hear the tips of his ears going pink.  "Pushy pushy.  We both know you have better manners than that."  His fingers brush warm across Daichi's skin.

 Daichi grins, seeing his chance and taking it.  He leans his head up close to Suga's ear, lips brushing the shell of it.  "All shy now?  Do you need me to _ask nicely?_ " he breathes, and Suga shivers and giggles a little more.  Daichi knows how this goes:  Suga will instigate with all this bravado, Suga will get red and nervous as soon as Daichi starts taking action, Suga will end up shoving him down and saying the absolute _filthiest_ things before this is all over.  Daichi is ready to skip to the last bit, thanks.

 "You talk so big, Suga.  I thought you were going to, what was it you told me, 'pin me up against my own locker and fuck me 'til I can't even walk'?"  Suga chokes a little behind him, and Daichi can feel the heat radiating off his face, but Suga's fingers tighten on the muscle of his thigh.  "Everyone's gone home, Suga.  I've been hard as hell, waiting for you to put your hands on me all day."  Daichi hikes up his skirt a bit higher, flashing some lace, and Suga lets his head fall forward to bury his nose in Daichi's neck.

 " _God_ , Daichi," Suga sighs, and pulls the fabric of the little cheerleading skirt tight over Daichi's erection, admiring.  Daichi hisses at the friction against the head of his dick, too full to stay completely covered by the panties anymore, the fabric rubbing harsh and raw where he's started to leak.  Suga pulls Daichi snug against him, kicking Daichi's knees apart to splay over one of his own.  He pushes Daichi's hips forward a little then drags them back, grinding him along his thigh, and Daichi _whines_.  "The things I'd do…"

 "Do them," Daichi grits out, flushing at the way his cock jerks up towards Suga's hands.  He pushes his ass back against Suga again, listening for the little catch of breath, the last shreds of Suga's self-control slipping away.

 "Yes," Suga says softly, like he's considering, then shoves Daichi down on the floor.

 Daichi grunts as he makes contact, barely catching himself before Suga is on him, tugging at his skirt, pulling Daichi's muscular thighs around his waist and grinding down.  Laughing at the sudden change of pace, Daichi lets himself be pushed, arches up into it, runs his fingers through light silky hair, tugging hard the way he knows Suga likes.  He wraps his legs tighter around Suga's skinny hips, hooks his feet at the ankles, loving the way Suga shoves his flushed face into his neck and gasps like he's drowning.  He can feel Suga hard against him ( _so_ hard, how did he not feel it before?), hot and urgent and pressed against his hip, lips hissing muddled words into the juncture of Daichi's neck and shoulder, _so good Daichi, so pretty, waited all day…_

 "Stop Suga, oh my god, wanna--"  Daichi shoves at Suga,  who falls backwards on his ass, eyes glittering-dark and lips slack and pink with Daichi's lipstick and the friction.  He's heaving in breaths and his dick is pressing at the front of his neat little schoolboy slacks.  _Perfect._ "Lemme--"

 Daichi scoots Suga up against the wall, eyes fixed on where his shirt is coming undone at the top, pops a few more buttons and fastens his mouth there.  Suga sighs low and breathy, chest tightening when Daichi rubs his knuckles up and down against where his pants are straining.  He yanks open Suga's fly, searches out the blunt shape of the head of Suga's dick through his boxers with the pad of his thumb, rubs and rubs at it until it starts to leak through the fabric.  Suga croons out a hurt little noise when Daichi leans down to suck at the damp spot, skirt falling up to reveal the stretch of lace over his ass.  He kicks off the stupid heels and braces his knees on the tile, one sock rolling down as he pulls Suga's dick through the slit in his boxers and hungrily shoves his mouth over it.

 Suga rarely curses.  He is composed and child-friendly and exactly the kind of boy you want to bring home to mama, Daichi thinks, until you get him like this.  " _FUCK,"_ Suga groans, pushing his hips up sharply, "Daichi, your _tongue."_

 Strong, surprisingly soft fingers come down to tangle in Daichi's hair, trace along the spitslick curve of Daichi's lipstick-pink mouth wrapped around Suga's shaft.  Then the hand in Daichi's hair is pulling, yanking Daichi back and off of Suga with a wet _pop_.  Daichi's eyes linger dazedly on the faint pink ring his lipstick left around the base.  "Wait--Daichi, can I--"  Suga is gasping in air like he's been running laps.  His dick is throbbing with his pulse against Daichi's fingertips.

 " _Anything,_ " Daichi breathes, voice raw and close to Suga's tip.

 Suga immediately buries both hands in Daichi's short hair, pushes his dick hard up against Daichi's damp cheek, lets out a cute little hiccuping gasp and comes spectacularly across Daichi's face, hips twitching, oversensitive cock jerking in its own mess, face pink, brows knitted and mouth open.  The sight hits Daichi like a blow to the gut, and suddenly the press of fabric against his dick is too much contact.  He bites down _hard_ on his lower lip, tasting cosmetics and copper and Suga, his cock drooling out a heavy string of slick into his panties.

 When Suga's dick stops twitching through the aftershocks, he peels open his eyes one at a time, takes in Daichi's lipstick-and-come-smeared face, and groans breathily.  " _Daichi."_

 Daichi is so hard he feels like he's going to burst.  "Suga, _Koushi,_ I need--you gotta--"

 Limbs heavy with afterglow, Suga grabs Daichi's shirt and pulls him forward into a messy kiss, all tongue.  Daichi's  head spins when he thinks about Suga sucking his own come off Daichi's swollen lips.  "Mm.  You deserve," Suga breathes, flipping Daichi around so his back is to Suga's front again, "anything you want," Suga is running a hand down Daichi's abs, hiking up his skirt, "I'm gonna--," and then he's pulling aside the scrap of lace that's holding down Daichi's cock.  "So _hard,_ " he breathes, voice thready and soft but laced with awe.  Daichi squirms, aching for contact.  He thinks he could come from a single touch at this point.

 Suga bypasses his cock, instead running his fingers through the slick mess of spit and come on Daichi's face.  His breath is deep and slow in Daichi's ear, heart hammering steady against his back, as Suga pulls Daichi's legs apart, tugs aside his panties and reaches under Daichi's balls to slick him up, fingers rubbing insistently at his hole.  It burns for a second, but Daichi gasps and forces himself to relax, to let one of Suga's long fingers press up inside him so _easy_ now, prodding and searching.  Daichi stiffens when Suga feels out his prostate, circling and rubbing with lazy accuracy, adding another slicked-up finger for good measure, whispering encouragement in Daichi's ear: _Mm, so sweet, Daichi, so good to me._

 Daichi leans back into the stretch now, Suga's fingers moving in tandem inside him, squirming and huffing every time they rub _just right_.  Suga, starting to come back to himself, grabs Daichi's thigh, hikes it up and over his own, changing his angle just enough to get Daichi to make those wet little gasping sounds he makes when he's close.

 "Alright, Daichi?" Suga asks, running blunt fingernails down the underside of Daichi's cock with his free hand, making Daichi's legs shake.  He thumbs the shiny tip, watching the resulting bead of precum stretch into a little string when he moves his fingers away.  "You're all _wet_ here, like a pretty girl in that uniform."  

 "Touch me, Koushi," Daichi begs.  His cock is going purple at the head, drooling.

 "Mm.  I am," says Suga, soft and sweet and immovable, and Daichi grits out a quiet little scream of frustration when Suga pinches his tip between two long fingers.  "I think you can come just like this."

 Daichi lets out a dry sob.  Suga's come is drying tacky on his face, and his own slick is still wet on his thighs.  "Koushi please.  Oh my god."

 Suga hums inscrutably, then presses his fingers _up_ and _in_ and Daichi sees stars.  Untouched, his cock unloads against his belly, jerking hard every time Suga jabs the pads of his fingers at his prostate, so sensitive he's shaking, red-flushed from his hairline to his chest, skin sparking everywhere it rubs up against that stupid uniform.  And it just keeps _going_ , Suga milking him for every last drop, toying with his swollen balls and murmuring _yeah, that's pretty Daichi, so cute_ , rubbing at his insides until he's shuddering and begging him to _stop, too much Koushi, please_.  And then he kisses him for all he's worth, dick still trying to twitch out more even though he's dry, dizzy and messy and so fucking _good_.

 Daichi opens his bleary eyes to Suga's grinning face.  And then it turns upwards, away.  He hears a familiar _ka-chkk,_ followed by a bright flash, and he groans, too blissed out in Suga's lap to really care.

 ***

 Wednesday morning, Daichi and Suga sit side by side in class.  Suga has stowed his phone away and is organizing his pencil case, clean and well-pressed as always, when Daichi's phone buzzes.  He side-eyes his friend-- _what did you do now_?  Suga turns his best big doe eyes back at him-- _who, me?_

 Daichi looks around, then opens his phone and, in the middle of class, is suddenly eye to eye with his own lipstick-smeared, thoroughly wrecked face: come drying on one cheek, cheerleading top hiked up, and in the foreground, Suga is smiling and throwing up a _fucking peace sign_.  He snaps his phone shut so fast it's audible, shoves it away in his jacket pocket like it burned him.  Cheeks flaming, thoroughly scandalized, Daichi scribbles out a messy note and shoves it onto Suga's desk.  _I'm going to throttle you,_ Suga reads _._

 Suga raises his eyebrows, tears off a clean strip of notebook paper and writes one back.  He folds it neatly before sliding it under Daichi's textbook.  Daichi unfolds it, glaring at Suga all the while.  He's greeted by Suga's usual immaculate script. _Where's your team spirit this morning, captain?_

 


End file.
